


Fog

by kittybenzedrine



Series: Timelines [61]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, F/M, Fog, Horror, Mention of Mental Illness, Mild Language, Psychological Horror, Survival Horror, Unseen Antagonist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:47:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28523433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittybenzedrine/pseuds/kittybenzedrine
Summary: "Don't let go of my hand."It's a simple instruction. Intertwine fingers with Leo's, and hold on like her life depends on it. Frankly, with whatever...thingis in this fog chasing them, dragging itself along after them, her life may actually genuinely depend on it.In which case, Renee is fucked._____All pieces of the Timelines series are standalones and can be read without context.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Series: Timelines [61]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/728796
Kudos: 2





	Fog

"Don't let go of my hand."

It's a simple instruction. Intertwine fingers with Leo's, and hold on like her life depends on it. Frankly, with whatever... _thing_ is in this fog chasing them, dragging itself along after them, her life may actually genuinely depend on it.

In which case, Renee is fucked.

A few of the buildings lining the road have lights, and the lights over one particular stretch of buildings are burnt out in such a way that it's barely visible through the dense fog. It's perfect cover. He murmurs _break right_ in her ear, and she breaks right, continuing on even when his grip slips from hers. It'd too risky to stop to try to find him, especially with the dreaded dragging noise from the creature getting so close.

They're both going to the same place, right? Shouldn't be hard to reconvene once they've made it inside the little building.

It's a large open shed full of copious amounts of shit for one, and for two, she's been in here for fucking ever and still hasn't found him. At least an hour has been spent searching for him before she heard that awful dragging noise coming back this way. Her back is pressed to the wall farthest from the door, eyeing the hazy opening. If anything has passed by, she hasn't seen it. Holding a hand up about a foot in front of her face, she finds that she still can't see that either. She's about three inches away from touching her face before she can finally see her wedding ring.

The fog should clear by daybreak, she hopes. And if it doesn't, there will at least be enough sunlight for them to deal with this threat directly. Leo can fight. _She_ can fight. They're just at an unfortunate disadvantage right now, but when the sun comes up, her and Leo will have a better chance. All she has to do is survive several more hours in the dark, wet, cold night and pray that her husband finds her first.

Renee shivers. It's definitely wet out. The fog hangs so thick that her clothes are damp, dew beading up on the fabric. Her curls have puffed out into a frizzy mess, the ends dripping from how saturated they've become. It's not even that cool of a night, but with everything being sodden, the chill sets in regardless. She moves slowly, gathering her hair up and sitting forward. She can't hear it, but she definitely feels it when the drops fall on her shoes as she wrings her hair out.

The dragging sound passes by once more. Rocks and chunks of the road's loose asphalt crunch underneath whatever the creature is, and her heart skips a beat when the sound stops just outside of the shed. She holds her breath, tensed, and lets it out slow once the body begins to move away again.

Time passes. It feels like days that she's been trapped alone in this over-stuffed hoarder's shed, but knowing how slow things go, it's likely only been about half an hour since the thing last passed. Hopefully it finally moved farther up the road, thinking the two of them managed to get away.

The crickets are loud, loud enough that she can barely hear herself think. Not so loud as to mask the sound of something catching on metal dangerously close to her left side. There's a small crunch as something solid rolls over a few rocks, pressing them into the packed dirt making up the floor in here. She prays it's Leo's boot. She tenses, shifting just enough that she can bolt as a moment's notice.

Something damp and solid settles next to her. She grits her teeth, forcing herself to stay perfectly still. It's fleshy in texture where it's touching her arm, but almost rubbery as well, cold and tacky from the fog. It shifts closer, pressing to her left side. 

Fingers slide into her own, and while the hand is chilly and damp, it _is_ a hand. If it's Leo- and she's praying like hell that it is- then he's not giving her any indication. She continues holding as still as she can, letting the fingers settle into her trembling hand. After a moment, it gives her three quick squeezes. It's their usual sign for 'let go of my hand', but the cold hand stays twined with her own.

She brings it close to her face, a nervous chill going down her spine. Their interwoven fingers are only a few inches from her eyes and she can still barely see, but it's enough for her to make out the chipped black nail polish on Leo's nails. Renee sags with relief, but doesn't dare make a sound. She strokes her thumb across his fingers and squeezes him back, hoping to return some warmth to their hands.

Leo isn't wearing his rings, it seems. He's a gaudy asshole, has rings on nearly every finger. It makes sense that he took them off though. If they're clacking together on his hand, the sound will carry. He probably split them between his pockets so they wouldn't jingle together, or just flat out dumped them. They're replaceable.

They sit in the silence. He's still next to her, but Renee is shivering like a motherfucker. She clenches her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering, keeping her shoulder firm against his, hoping he'll warm back up enough to warm her in return. His fingers twitch, and she gives him a small squeeze.

It's still dark out. It's early spring, and while the nights have been getting shorter, it's still a long goddamn time. They've been out here a while through. Hopefully that means there's only a few hours left until sunrise. Maybe the fog is messing with her perception and it's already getting lighter, and she just can't tell. Unless they're stuck in some, fucking, Silent Hill videogame-esque horror show, the sun will be rising eventually. It's just a matter of waiting things out.

His fingers once more twitch in her hand, seemingly not from the cold. What is he- Fuck. It's been way too long between the doses of his antipsychotics, now that she's thinking about it. Even with the distorted sense of time, she knows it's been too long. His withdrawal symptoms manifest within hours of a missed dose, and the usual fist sign is shaking and hand twitches. They weren't thinking of his pill bottles when they bolted. On one hand, she's glad they were left behind. The pills rattling in his pocket would have gotten them caught fast. On the other hand- her husband is a paranoid schizophrenic. He _really_ doesn't need to miss any doses of his medication.

Hopefully he won't start hallucinating yet. When it's bright out, she'll be able to confirm he's only seeing things, it's just a trick of the mind. But if he starts hallucinating now, it could lead to... whatever the fuck the creature is catching them. An errant, imagined shadow could lead them away from safety, straight into the creature's arms.

Renee closes her eyes and lets her head rest back against the splintering shed wall. It's a stupid thing to do. She isn't going to fall asleep here, she knows that much, but they both need to be on constant alert. Both sets of eyes need to be open, but _fuck_. She needs a moment. Just a moment to allow herself some calm.

There's a long stretch of quiet. Just her, Leo, and the overwhelming chirping of crickets. But that's quiet enough. Renee draws in a deep breath and lets it out slow. It'll be alright. It's okay. They'll get out of this just fine, with a little bit of monster blood on their clothes and a terrifying story they can never tell their therapists.

A hand connects with her face from the right.

She bites back a scream, but just barely. The hand on her face is covered in cold, wet metal that leaves freezing trails on her skin. Rings? It feels around her face like a blind person trying to read her features. Whatever it is slides down next to her, pawing at her with fervent intensity. The skin is warm, but the metal is like ice. She tenses so hard that she can feel her pulse in her teeth.

Another warm hand, still damp but with a lot less metal, runs down her arm and slides into her right palm. It squeezes. There's something sharp touching her face and ear, gritting on her skin like sandpaper. Stubble, she thinks. It breathes in her ear, soft and shaky, warming the skin.

"Renee?"

It's so soft that she can barely hear it, but the syllables of her name are clear enough. She nods into the hand cupping her face, her lashes brushing the tip of a thumb.

"Thank fuck," Leo murmurs, lips pressed to her right ear. "I didn't think I'd find you."

Those are his rings. The calluses on the thumb and fingertips match the ones he has. The stubble feels patchy, and she knows his facial hair grows in that way. That's Leo's voice, for sure. She brushes a finger across his nails and catches on the chipped edges of his polish.

What the _fuck_ is on her left side?

Renee shudders without meaning to, her right hand grasping him like a lifeline. She's careful not to squeeze the left hand too tight, afraid of alerting whatever it is she's been holding on to for god knows how long. Easing up the grip, she continues to stroke the fingers that haven't warmed up in the slightest. She even brings it up to press a silent kiss to the skin. It feels unnaturally cold, has too much give. It's so much more bony than Leo, and she doesn't know how she didn't notice that.

"Are you okay? I ended up next door and made my way here when the thing got quiet. I thought I wasn't going to find you." His lips brush against her temple. _I thought it got you_ , says the way he grasps at her hand.

She swallows, choosing not to answer. She does squeeze his hand in return however, taking comfort in the weight of his wedding ring pressing into her fingers. His other hand finally drops from her face, and the fingers in her left hand twitch.

"I told you not to let go of me," he says in her ear, barely loud enough to be heard over the crickets. The irritation is clear, but he's too relieved to be mad.

Swallowing once more, she turns her head. Her lips graze his stubbled cheek, shaven clean just this morning and already rough with growth. His breath warms her neck, and it clicks after a moment that whatever is on her left, she hasn't heard it breathe.

The blood rushing in her ears is so loud that it nearly overtakes the sounds of the crickets, of Leo's breathing. Renee blinks the spots from her vision, trying and failing to force herself to calm down. She can't have a panic attack here. She _can't_.

It's tricky not to jostle the Not-Leo on her left as she presses her face into Leo's shoulder. Each breath is full of the damp, comforting scent of the perfume he wears, a soft honeysuckle that he's always loved. It's a shitty, cheap roll-on Hot Topic perfume with a scent that lasts longer than the designer perfumes she has. She tilts her head up, brushing her top lip against his ear.

"I thought you were on my left."

She feels him shiver, and a droplet from his hair rolls down her right arm. He's wonderfully warm against her, only making the thing on her left feel that much colder. Leo's breath is a hot puff on her cheek when he leans down.

"What are you talking about?"

Renee leans in, her bottom lip grazing the earring in his lobe. As carefully as she can, voice as tight and soft as it can get, she speaks.

"Leo, something is holding my left hand."

Her husband goes very still on her right, and the hand on her left tightens its grip.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Leo wears perfume. It's the exact perfume my partner wears actually <3
> 
> So, uh, I want to say this bids well for 2021 since I'm actually publishing within the first week of the year, but I don't want to jinx things. I also don't want to jinx things by saying I've been feeling really creative lately.
> 
> I've been reading and watching too much horror lately. But this was fun to write! It's been way too long since I got a piece written and edited in a single day, even if it's kinda short. I rather enjoyed throwing them into a situation like this. As my partner put it, "Leo and Ren aren't built for horror." 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed it! Hopefully there'll be more Timelines works to come in 2021.
> 
> Feel free to comment or hit me with that sweet, sweet Kudos button. I always appreciate it.
> 
> I have [my blog](http://iwillpooponthefloor.tumblr.com) on tumblr, if you'd like to check that out, though it's mostly unrelated content. I'm not active much on there, but I'll try to get back to you if you'd rather contact me there.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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